The Kitchen Witch
by Crimson Flame-Blue Rose
Summary: An unlikely pair, in an unlikely place, at an unlikely time. Subtle YorkxEmily.


"It's raining again tonight, Zach," York mused aloud, his eyes sliding closed as he rested his head back

against the headrest of the car seat, "Can you remember if it rained this much back in D.C.? Because I

can't," he murmured, sighing in contentment.

The rain was never really a problem for him, at least, not usually…

To York, the rain was just a change in the weather, something to take in stride and get on with his day.

For his friend, Zach, on the other hand, it was almost like a gentle lullaby.

On days like this during a case, York had to work almost entirely on his own with a lethargic companion

who was only able to offer him encouragement.

That's how it always was for the two of them.

But, Greenvale, in its small, enclosed village – separate from the rest of the world – was silent and still.

Thanks to an age-old tradition, the raincoat killer who comes out when it pours, no one dares venture

outside their cozy, warm homes.

Because of that fact, York was unable to conduct interviews or cross-examine evidence.

In this small town, the rain was a cold, icy blanket that both isolated and comforted the superstitious.

And that proved to be a problem for York and Zach, unfortunately.

They could neither proceed with the investigation or even go window shopping at the Milk Barn; which

was a shame since the agent had had his eye on that pink suit for awhile now.

"It's too bad I couldn't get that suit, Zach, it would've been perfect for the occasion, don't you think?" he

asked his other half, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile.

It was Valentine's Day, or, Valentine's _Night_, actually.

It was an excuse to wear something different for a change, and he did want to look nice for Emily.

Well, he supposed it didn't matter now, anyway…

It was dark, late, raining, and Emily didn't seem to mind anything he chose to wear.

Although, there was that time she had called him Magnum P.I. when he wore his white suit with the blue

Hawaiian dress shirt…

York was a bit confused by the sentiment, but he felt Zach had gotten a chuckle out of it.

Oh well, he had brought some things to help the deputy with her next cooking experiment; they would be

together, so it was still sort of reminiscent of the holiday, in a way.

"In hindsight, Zach, it does seem strange that a man is visiting a woman at her home on a dark, rainy

night," the agent chuckled, "but, considering the circumstances, it's really the only chance we have of

seeing her," he lamented as he turned off the ignition, the warmth of the car's air conditioner dying out.

York grabbed the paper bag full of ingredients before opening the car door, frowning thoughtfully,

"Zach…Are you humming that song from Singing In The Rain? I'm amazed that you remember it after all

these years," York murmured as he stepped out of the car, the rain already pounding down on his black

slacks as he shut the door and jogged up to the front door of Emily's house.

He remembered when he had dated this one girl in college, she was majoring in theater while he was

studying criminal science. Francesca, that was her name, and she had tried her best to introduce him to

musicals, even though, to this day, he and Zach were horror buffs.

It felt like such a long time ago, and it felt even stranger when Zach suddenly remembered that song.

It was ironic, considering the conditions they found themselves in, but was it meant as a joke?

"You're happy to see Emily again, aren't you, Zach?" he breathed as he shivered from the cold, wiping the

cool droplets from his forehead, "I'll be glad to see her, too," York agreed with his friend, rubbing his arms

for warmth to regain his composure, "And I'm curious to find out what she's trying to make next," he

spoke as he eyed the bag in his hand before knocking on the door, unconsciously readjusting his red tie.

Truth be told, York wasn't sure what Emily craved for; he remembered that she had mentioned at the

station the other day that she was thinking of preparing homemade spaghetti, and, in her own, she just

'couldn't get the Tabasco flavor right'.

And if he and Zach knew anything about food, Tabasco sauce was _not_ a befitting ingredient in pasta…

So, he had done his best to try to remember how his mom had prepared it; some tomatoes, parsley, and

basil, that was the gist of it. York had hoped it would be enough, at least for the first trial.

But, it struck him as…Rather bizarre that Emily had moved on to trying out spices now.

Whatever happened to experimenting with bell peppers, onions, and other major ingredients?

"It looks like she wants a challenge, Zach, I'm ready if you are." He grinned.

What York wasn't prepared for were those brilliant blue eyes and a sundress to match when the door

creaked open, his mind blanking and his lips parting in awe.

"Agent York," Emily greeted professionally, a smile gracing her pink lips as she pulled the door open

wider, "Well? Aren't you coming in?" the deputy placed her hand on her hip as she waited for a response.

York blinked and closed his mouth, his knees feeling suspiciously weak, "Emily, I hope I'm not too late,"

he responded politely, motioning his hand upwards towards the dreary sky.

"You're fine, now get in here before you catch cold," Emily snorted, motioning her hand for him to come

inside; surprised that she had to exercise any restraint to prevent herself from simply yanking on his arm.

York flashed a smile and stepped into the, thankfully, warm house, offering the bag in his hand once the

door snapped shut behind him, "You mentioned that you wanted to cook pasta, so, I got a few things for

you to try," he stated simply, his eyes locking onto hers.

'_She sure has beautiful eyes, right, Zach? What do they remind you of?'_ he wondered inwardly.

Emily took the brown paper bag from the federal agent, her fingers brushing up against his as she took the

proffered gift. It was from the Milk Barn, from what she could tell from the printed logo on the side, and

she looked up to meet York's green eyes, gentle, with a hint of tired wisdom to them.

Part of her didn't want to say anything at all, but her nerves got the better of her and she just couldn't stop

fidgeting; her slender fingers lacing and unlacing with the bag's handle hanging on one of her thumbs.

"Oh," she began, her eyes lowering to York's tie to compose herself before looking back up at him, "I'm

boiling the noodles right now, so it'll be awhile," she answered before walking off towards the kitchen.

"I baked some sugar cookies yesterday, why don't you give one of them a try while you wait?" she offered

as she set the bag down on the counter and began to rifle through its contents.

York felt a sense of relief when their eye contact broke; striding into the dining room that was adjacent to

the little kitchenette. He spotted a rack of heart-shaped cookies, some frosted pink and others were white;

decorated in X's and O's, some with the word 'Love' that was messily drawn on – looking more like

'Vove' on a couple of them. And…one looked like it could've possibly been an attempt at a rose, or a

daisy, but it ended up being a small pile of pink icing.

'_It doesn't matter what they look like, Zach, the key is in the taste!'_ he proclaimed to himself as he picked

up a pink cookie, noticing the slightly burned edges on the unfrosted side before biting down on it.

The cookie itself wasn't soft, nor chewy, like a sugar cookie would normally be; it was more like

shortbread, stiff…And plain. No buttery taste to it, so it wasn't exactly shortbread, either.

The frosting was sweet, though, and it covered up most – if there were any – of the mistakes.

There was a burnt aftertaste to it, though.

Regardless, York licked his lips clean and sucked his thumb and forefinger to remove the leftover icing.

Emily had been watching the agent carefully, her hands faltering in removing the items from the sack, "So,

how are they?" she asked curiously, glancing back down into the bag and began to remove the four

tomatoes one by one.

Part of her wondered if all of this was a mistake, she had worried that it would make things awkward

between them. The home-cooked dinner, on Valentine's Day, at night, and she was wearing this stupid

dress again. This tacky, old-fashioned, blue cotton dress with white daisies on it that screamed southern

housewife and did not do her law enforcing, Seattleite personality any justice.

But, it was the only dress she had right now, and she hadn't wanted to wear her deputy uniform again when

she had been trying to be more open and welcoming to the federal agent, an outsider, like her.

Well, if it was really that bad, at least it could be an icebreaker for them, maybe.

She made a mental note to ask Thomas where she could find some dressy slacks, though.

Emily bit her lower lip to distract herself from the onslaught; she wasn't an insecure teenager anymore.

"Well," York began after sucking off his finger, "it's hard to tell," he admitted, his brows knitting together

as he tried to find the words to describe the taste – all without hurting the deputy's feelings.

"Okay…?" Emily trailed off, encouraging him to finish his thought.

"The icing is sweet, which is good; but…" he mused, tapping his finger against his chest thoughtfully,

"Ah!" he raised his index finger in proclamation, "I think the cookies need more sugar, that's it," he

nodded.

"More sugar? Really?" Emily chuckled with a raised eyebrow in disbelief, "I was worried that too much

sugar would make them too sweet, but, okay, I can try your idea next time," she agreed before grabbing a

couple bottles of spices from the bag and setting them down next to the tomatoes.

York breathed a silent breath of relief, _'We dodged a bullet there, huh, Zach?' _he chuckled to himself.

"I guess I shouldn't have used so much salt, then," Emily wondered aloud, "And a bit more butter couldn't

hurt, right? Hmm…" she hummed thoughtfully.

York blinked in disbelief at this woman's logic, _'Amazon cooking, as always. Zach do you remember if our_

_wills are up to date?'_ he grinned at the playful jab.

"Oh?" Emily quirked a brow when she spotted a small, red gift bag at the bottom of the sack, "Agent York,

what is this?" she asked after pulling out the little bag, holding it up by its cord handles.

York's thought process halted briefly, his eyes transfixed to the gift bag.

"Well, Emily," he started, tugging on his tie while clearing his throat, "It's a gift," he finished lamely.

"_I know_ _that_, agent York," the blonde scoffed, grinning, "but _why_ are you giving this to me?"

"Well, it is Valentine's Day, and it just seemed natural to give you something," he spoke evenly as he

folded his hands on top of the counter, "Think of it as a 'thank you' gift for allowing me to try your

cooking these past few weeks."

While that all was true, it was only part of the truth…

He liked Emily, very much; and he did have a habit of giving gifts to people he cared for.

Zach had wanted to give her flowers, but Lilly said it was too early for roses; and the tulips didn't seem to

suit the deputy that well. Although he and his friend did agree on carnations, but they were all sold out.

Besides all that, York decided that if they were going to give Emily a gift, it would be something _practical_.

Emily smiled in thanks for the agent's thoughtful gesture, her hand slipping into the bag, grabbing

onto something soft…

Upon pulling it out, she was stunned into silence as she looked at this…Thing.

At first glance, it looked like a small doll.

It had a white body made out of knitted cotton – was it made from a sock or something?

The doll had two black buttons for eyes, a pink thread on its face in the shape of a smile, long blonde hair

tied in a ponytail, and it wore a blue denim dress.

And there was a little stick with straw attached to its hand…

Just where did York buy this?

"York?" Emily asked him casually, "is this…What is this?"

York fought to keep himself from smiling like an idiot when he saw how much the doll resembled Emily.

"It's a kitchen witch, haven't you seen one before?" he asked with an innocent smile.

"No…" Emily frowned, placing her hands on her hips, "What are you trying to get at here?" she spoke

defensively. _'Are you saying that I'm a witch? I'm a terrible cook? You better explain yourself…'_

"A kitchen witch," the agent announced, "is a good luck charm; I saw it at the Milk Barn sometime ago and

it reminded me of the one we used to have when I was a kid," he frowned as he cupped his chin in his hand

as he tried to remember, "It was black with green hair, I think. I think it was a gift to my mom from my

grandmother…" he mused.

Emily eyed the brunette curiously before looking down at the handmade doll in her hand, "A good luck

charm, huh?" she spoke, a soft smile crossing her lips, "Well, ah, thank you, agent York; I'll keep it by the

fruit basket, then," she announced before setting the doll next to the basket of apples and bananas.

It was probably one of the strangest gifts she had ever gotten from a man, but certainly not the worst…

And, it was from York; York had thought about her when he got it, especially when he never needed to

give her anything at all. It was strange, completely out of the blue, and endearing – like him.

Deep down, Emily knew that at some point in time York will have to go back to D.C.

And, surprisingly, she knows that she will miss him…

But, and as grim and selfish as it sounds, they still had a little time left, thanks to the investigation.

What will come of it, she has no idea, but she's glad that he is here to help make sense of it.

"Well, I'll get started on dinner, can I get you anything to drink?" she offered.

"Anything is fine," York answered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as the blonde walked over to

the fridge, smiling to himself when Emily had a tough choice to make between soda and beer.

'_Do you think she likes it, Zach?'_ he wondered, _'Well, I thought it was a good idea, anyway; she's going to_

_need all the help she can get.'_

+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.

Happy belated-Valentine's Day, everyone!

I feel guilty that I haven't posted any stories since December, but I've been in a bit of rut and it hasn't been

easy to get out of. It's February now, and this year marks the fifth anniversary of Deadly Premonition,

another one of my favorite games – which also has a touch of noir to it, so it fits my current theme, too.

The characters, particularly York and Emily, mean a great deal to me, and since I've been replaying the

game lately in celebration of its anniversary, I've decided to try and write a few stories!

I think this one, the very first attempt at writing a DP fic, turned out pretty well.

I don't know if I'll write more after this one, but I'm just happy that I at least wrote this one.

In any case, I'll try to think of some more Deadly Premonition fic ideas to write out throughout the month;

after that, I'll continue writing about L.A. Noire.

This story came to me one night while I was pacing around in my kitchen, eating some cake, and I looked up at the kitchen witch doll that we have hanging by our

window. And, I kid you not, it was raining, too.

So, I was inspired to write it because it was just too sweet to let go...

In other news, I found out on AO3 that just yesterday was the first annual International Fanworks Day.

I'm not sure how it works, exactly, but it supposedly recognizes and celebrates the importance of fanworks

as a pivotal starting point for artists and writers – it sounds inspiring, really.

It's a shame I didn't write and post this yesterday to commemorate it, but better late than never, right?

Until next time!

Lin

P.S.

Swery, if you ever stumble across this, I personally want to thank you for creating such an amazing story.

I see quite a bit of myself in York, and playing through his personal journey felt like my own journey and I

felt like I finally found someone – something – I had in common with.

Through York, I've learned the importance of self-care and internal healing.

Thank you, and I hope you'll do well in your future projects!

(And I still hold out hope for a sequel!)


End file.
